


Five Minutes to Midnight

by Sanalith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-20
Updated: 2012-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-02 06:59:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/366217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sanalith/pseuds/Sanalith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What must it be like to be a "clock" on the wall of the Burrow?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Minutes to Midnight

No one, pureblood or Muggle-born, has ever looked at me for the first time without surprise. I don’t blame them, of course. I’m not what you’d call typical. That may be part of my charm, but it can still throw people off a little. Even after all these years, I still get a kick out of their reactions.  
  
If you want to get technical, I’m a clock. I have a face, I have hands, and they generally move around in at least a semi-predictable fashion, but that’s about as far as the similarities go. I’ve sat in the living room of the Burrow for as long as I can remember, and even though I’ve never spoken a word or communicated in any way with my owners, I do consider them my family. When you get right down to it, I know more about their habits than anyone – or anything – else. That is my job, after all.   
  
For a long time, my hands really did turn almost like clockwork. School, work, shopping, playing, getting into mischief…I knew it all. I can’t even begin to count the number of times Molly would look at me and shake her head, annoyed that someone was where they shouldn’t be or doing something they knew would get them into trouble. There could be no sneaking around, no surprise outings or hidden agendas. I was her eyes and ears, her ever-present spy. In point of fact, I may be the biggest gossip ever created without a mouth. Everyone’s secrets lay bare on my face. Sometimes I amused myself by predicting when my hands would change, or who would be the next to get in trouble. My function allowed me to experience the life of a human without ever leaving the room. It was…fun. Fulfilling. I loved it.  
  
But now, all that has changed.  
  
My hands never turn anymore. Not for any of my family. I no longer know where they are or what they are doing. I can’t tell who is sneaking out in the middle of the night, who is skipping work, or who might (gasp!) actually be behaving themselves. But that’s the whole point. It no longer matters where they are or what they’re doing, because they’re all in the same danger. I don’t know when or if my hands will ever move again, but for the first time in my existence, I felt a true, sharp stab of fear for the only creatures I’ve ever known. And all I can do is stay here, stuck in the Burrow, with my hands crowded one over the other on one mark, cold and stiff from disuse. And when Molly looks at me now, all I can see is the terror reflected in her expressive eyes.  
  
Clocks don’t feel fear. Clocks don’t watch over their owners and follow their footsteps with their hands. Clocks will never understand “Mortal Peril.” I’m not a clock. Not really. But right now, for the first time, I feel the seconds ticking slowly by, one after another, echoing loudly in the now-quiet house, bringing us all one moment closer to midnight.


End file.
